Works Well With Others
by Hiyume
Summary: A collection of oneshots based on the songs in the solo album Works Well With Others by Hugh Dillon, whom is also Nick's voice actor. Nick's POV.
1. Friends of Mine

**A/N:** As stated in the summary, every chapter will be based off a song from the solo album Works Well With Others by Hugh Dillon (Nick's voice actor). I plan on going in order of the track list, so here's the first one.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Left 4 Dead. It belongs to Valve.

Track #1: Friends of Mine

"Hey Nick?"

The conman sighed in frustration, burying his face in the bed sheets they'd been fortunate enough to find in the saferoom. He lay on his side, facing the wall, away from the hick that rested just a few feet away. The saferoom wasn't too roomy—mostly just one big space with a closet full of supplies and food and—surprisingly—pillows and blankets. They'd spread themselves out on the floor, and, _not_ surprisingly, Nick was forced into the far side of the room, with a barrier of Ellis to separate him from the other two.

"What?" he whispered harshly, "I was almost asleep."

"Sorry," Ellis mumbled. For a moment it was silent. Then, "You got anybody waitin' for you out there, Nick?"

Nick's breath caught in his throat.

_Never thought I'd trace the lines, thought I'd say goodbye. Thought I'd left it all behind, the pages of my life._

For a second his mind raced through those memories—everything before this supernatural apocalypse. And, he realized slowly, that no. No one was waiting for him. He'd abandoned his family long ago. Any stranger he met would become his enemy. He was a conman. Making any sort of relationship would only hinder him. Nick took in a sharp breath to answer him, but he lied.

"I don't know."

Again, silence, as if Ellis was contemplating what he'd said; if it would be inconsiderate to prod further. There was a shuffling sound as the mechanic shifted, filling the awkward silence. He sighed.

"My buddy Keith is dead." Nick flinched at that, a little shocked at his abruptness. Ellis continued, "So's Dave, 'n my Ma… 'n everyone else I knew, prolly."

_Maybe it's not that pretty. It's just a place in time. Those days are gone forever, and so are those friends of mine._

"… Don't got nobody no more."

Somehow Nick felt guilty. Responsible. Fucking _stupid_. Because all this time he'd been an asshole, jabbing at Ellis's life and personality and accent and… god, _everything_. Yet under that optimistic attitude, he was suffering. Fuck, he couldn't imagine that. Losing someone important. There was no one he cared for enough for whom he could mourn. But Ellis… losing all of that…

"Sorry, kid." He mumbled back, not sure what else to say. Ellis chuckled slightly—a sad, fake chuckle. Silence took over again. For a while, Nick thought Ellis had fallen asleep, but when he began drifting off himself, he was interrupted.

"Hey, Nick?" His voice was weak this time. Cracked. Hurt. He didn't wait for a response. "When we get outta all this… promise… promise we'll still be buddies… a'right?"

Nick hesitated, a little surprised by the request. A little conflicted. He knew he couldn't keep that promise. He knew that the moment they were safe, he would be gone. He'd be back in that cycle of conning and running. And fuck if he knew how to be friends with someone… God, let alone the fact that one day he'd probably have to watch that person die. So…

_I finally got it sorted. You've heard it a thousand times. And you can check that story…_

He lied, "Yeah, I promise."

_You know they're no friends of mine._

**A/N: **Kind of a crappy oneshot. Sorry. Did this in like forty minutes because the idea kept nagging at my brain. Anyway, hope you enjoyed. Reviews are always appreciated.

Track #2: Sentimental Me


	2. Sentimental Me

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Left 4 Dead. It belongs to Valve.

Track #2: Sentimental Me

_Yesterday, came and went_  
_Like any other day_  
_And I closed my eyes_  
_And I looked away_

They stood in a street just outside of a saferoom in New Orleans. The sun was hanging just over the horizon, ready to rest for the night. To banish their broken world into darkness. Shots rang through the air as the four killed the remaining Infected surrounding the building.

Fuck, there was so much blood. So much gore. So much death. Nick sighed in frustration and let his Magnum hang limply on his fingertips, rubbing his sore eyes with his free hand. Everything was so different. Ever since they'd started their trek to safety, Nick had been full of life—enough to be his usual jackass self—and had enough energy to want to survive. But now, in that moment as they shot down those monsters that once used to be human themselves… he just felt… tired. Tired of fighting. Of being a selfish asshole. Of killing.

_Yesterday, came and went_  
_Like any other day_  
_And something's changed_  
_And I can't explain it_

Nick turned to look into the distance, the gunshots of his teammates nothing but a distant echo in his ears. The west was just beginning to glow as the sun past the line between land and sky. The slightest hint of oranges and purples gently washing over the vast blue, colors melding together as evening stretched its fingers out to embrace the earth. It looked like a painting—so beautiful… so _surreal_. A perfection untouched by the decaying reality beneath it. He frowned.

It was mocking them.

"Nick?"

The conman averted his gaze to look at the source of the voice. Ellis stood a few feet away from him, rifle held calmly in his hands. Nick could still hear gunshots ringing through the air, but they were distant, as if far off or around a corner. Coach and Rochelle seemed to be too busy clearing the area to notice their absence. The hick looked at him with his brows slightly furrowed. Confused… maybe concerned? His pale blue eyes shifted between the older man and the place he'd been staring moments ago.

"Watch'chu lookin' at?" he asked after a few seconds, gaze finally settling on Nick. His eyes seemed to be searching for something. Some hidden emotion. Some secret. The conman sighed, shaking his head and turning back to look at the sky.

"The sunset," he stated simply. Silence followed, as though Ellis didn't know how to reply. Then, a chuckle. Nick could hear the smile in that quiet laugh, but didn't look.

"Pretty, ain't it?" The mechanic whispered. He shrugged in response. Ellis continued, still quiet, "It's like it's tellin' us to keep goin'. If we keep headin' west, we'll make it. Like there's still hope… you know…?"

Nick's mind went blank, unable to reply. Unable to respond. Unable to comprehend… and he laughed. Not just a chuckle, either. He laughed to the point that tears were in his eyes, his head thrown back as though he'd heard the funniest thing in the world. But it wasn't because it was funny or moronic or because Ellis was _so damn serious_. Not at all. It was because he was so…_ innocent_. Every sentimental statement was just him speaking his mind, like a naïve child. Nick couldn't help but let those words seep in and destroy all of that sorrow and all of those stupid hopeless thoughts that plagued his mind. And he laughed. Laughed because it felt so damn good. It felt so good to know that he had someone to be the optimism to his pessimism. The light to his dark. The smile to his frown.

"Hey, what's so funny?" Ellis pouted beside him. Nick's laugh slowly petered out into a grin as he wiped his eyes, looking back at the mechanic.

"Nothing's funny, kid. It's nothing. Just…" he drifted off, gaze returning to the sunset as he shook his head. This time, a smirk tugged at his lips. "It really is pretty." Ellis seemed content with that answer and didn't go on. Instead, he looked at the horizon. And they both stood there, watching as the sun disappeared and let its colors paint the sky.

_If I could chase the second hand_  
_Around the face of every moment I have wasted_  
_I wouldn't change a single thing_  
_I have no regrets_  
_And I'm not that patient_

They stood there for what must have been at least a half-hour, not moving until the sun had completely vanished and all that was left was a blanket of stars that enveloped the planet in a warm southern night. Rochelle and Coach's gunshots had long since stopped—they were probably in the saferoom sleeping by now. Nick turned to the younger man and sighed.

"Hey," he muttered, stuffing his Magnum into his belt. Ellis looked at him, blinking and raising an eyebrow. The conman opened his mouth to speak. To tell him how much his words meant. To tell him that if he hadn't said those words he might have just killed himself that night. But he thought better of it. His voice caught in his throat and came out as a drawn-out breath. He settled for something simple. "Thank you."

Ellis smiled back, probably not understand why he was thanking him but not wanting to ruin this rare moment. "No problem, Nick." He nodded and tipped his hat shyly. Nick couldn't help but smile a little wider at that, patting the hick on the shoulder. He started heading back to the saferoom, Ellis following a few feet behind.

_And when the sun has faded_  
_Maybe it's the sentimental me_  
_Everyone needs some of that…_

"D'you know what 'suck the heads' means? 'Cause Keith came down here once, an' he didn't know…" Nick tuned Ellis out, like he always did. Like everything was as it should be. But one thing was different.

He was smiling.

_And it's all right here for me_

**A/N:** Wow, an update in only 2 days? That's unheard of for me. But GUH, this song was so inspiring and I couldn't stop writing.

I find it ironic that Nick makes fun of Ellis's southern accent but his voice actor IRL has that accent.

If you would like to listen to Hugh Dillon's solo album, there is a Music player on his site. Just go to HughDillon (dot) com, click on 'Music' in the toolbar, then click 'Launch Music Player.' It should be a little pop-up window. Not sure if it's blocked if you have pop-up blocker on, though.

Alternatively you can copy and paste this link:

hughdillon (dot) com(slash) musicPlayer(slash) music(dot) html

^Just fix up all the spaces and stuff. This will bring up the music player as an actual window instead of a pop-up.

Track #3: Well On Your Way


	3. Well On Your Way

**A/N: **Not really any Ellis in this oneshot, sorry to anyone who was looking forward to that. Hope you enjoy anyway C:

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Left 4 Dead. It belongs to Valve.

Track #3: Well On Your Way

God, how long had it been? How long since the sudden spread of the Infection? How long since they'd been brought to safety—to that fleet of military cargo ships that functioned as some sort of half-shelter half-prison? How long since he'd seen humanity? How long since he'd run away from his ex-wife and son the moment things seemed to get just a little too difficult?

It felt like an eternity.

_Well I have kissed the stars and the police cars  
And that little voice I choose to accept  
And now I have turned around  
And I have walked away_

Nick wondered if Andrea and Ben were still alive out there somewhere. Were they even thinking about him? At all? He laughed slightly. They probably thought he was dead. Probably thought he was a goddamn zombie—walking but long gone. The four of them had gone through so much and almost lost their sanity trying to get out of that hell. But they made it. Shit, if Andrea saw him, standing, still alive… she'd probably be crying. Yeah, he could see that. Happy or sad or angry, she loved to cry.

_Now I have kissed the ground  
And I've been forced to run  
And I've been limited  
Thinking away_

The grin that had developed on the gambler's face slowly faded as the rays of a midday sun blinded him, making him grimace and squint. Survivors were being led off the ship in rows, the fleet having finally been given permission to let the Infection-free people off onto safe land. They were somewhere on the west coast of Oregon. That was all the CEDA members on the ship had revealed. Vaguely, he remembered them saying something about family members being informed of their arrival, but he hadn't found that important. No one—definitely not Andrea and Ben—would be coming to see him.

He stepped onto the dock in a pair of sneaker's that weren't his, other attire including a pair of worn-out jeans and a black long-sleeve sweater. His three companions—Ellis, Rochelle, and Coach—were right behind him. Luckily they hadn't been separated in the chaos. It was strange, really, that they'd stayed together for so long. They seemed to follow Nick if he walked off despite his selfish attitude, and when they didn't he'd end up following _them._ It was a weird, unspoken bond. They weren't friends. Not family, either. But there was something that kept them together—like all the shit they'd gone through had brought them closer to each other than any words or actions could.

And yet within seconds of finding solid ground, they were off, looking for loved ones, assuming that they all had someone to look for. But Nick was alone. He stood there, looking blank and misplaced in the groups of laughing people walking hand-in-hand around him.

The conman sighed, looking up into the cloudless sky as if he'd find the answer to what he should do somewhere up in the heavens. Should he just stand there? Wait for the other three to come back and listen to the ramblings of relatives that he didn't have? Or should he leave? Settle for being alone? He shook his head and reached a hand into the pocket of his jeans. He did what he always did when faced with a conflict.

He smoked.

The cigarette—the last one from the pack that CEDA had provided him—hung from his lips as he took out a lighter. He flicked it a couple times, but there was no spark. A sigh of frustration escaped through his parted lips, and without even thinking he bit down on the cigarette. He cursed at himself and spat the substance onto the pavement, the lighter following suite. Now there really _was_ nothing.

Shit, he could feel it. The tears building up. He ground his teeth and placed a palm over his eyes to stifle them. He'd come all this way, and for what? For life to spit in his face? For the world to tell him that karma was back to bite him in the ass harder than it had during that goddamn apocalypse? For reality to finally come crashing down? His jaw hurt from how hard he was clenching his teeth.

If only he could see Andrea and Ben. Just once. Just once…

"Daddy!"

_Holy shit, what?_

Nick removed his hand from his face to turn and look at the source of the voice, but before he'd even managed to glance down, something wrapped itself around his leg. The only thing he could see when he finally tipped his head downwards was combed, inch-long auburn hair with some stray strands that threatened to make the styled do a tousled mess. And when that kid looked up to meet his gaze, his heart melted away.

The biggest brightest smile he'd ever seen played on the boy's lips, one of his front teeth missing, making that grin so much more innocent and happy. And those eyes… oh those eyes. They were the exact same shade of green-gold as his own.

"Ben… Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me," Nick breathed, bending down to hug his son despite his angry words. Ben hugged him just as eagerly, trying to squeeze him to death with his little arms. God, how he'd missed that. Those simple little gestures of affection that only a child could give so freely and yet every single one was true. Every single gesture they made—whether it be a smile or a hug or giving you a piece of garbage shaped vaguely like a flower or a heart—was full of love.

"Hey! No swearing! You owe me a dollar!" Ben whined. He moved away from his father and held his hand out palm up, sticking his lower lip out in a pout. Nick laughed.

"You got me, kid," he grinned. The conman stood to get the hand-me-down wallet from his pocket. Before he could, though, he saw her.

Andrea.

She stood about ten feet away, arms crossed over her dark green blouse, just watching them… then her hand came up to wipe her face.

Jesus Christ, she was actually crying. Again. _All the time_. Nick felt his feet trying to move away. Run away like he did before because he just didn't want to deal with the crying. Didn't know _how _to deal with it. But he felt Ben tugging at his pant leg, keeping his from running. Anchoring his resolve.

_And I have turned around  
And I have learned to face  
Every day_

Nick walked towards her, Ben still gripping his leg as he moved. She seemed surprised by this because she blinked and looked away. Her strawberry blonde hair obscured her face. Even with that guard he could see the redness of her eyes. The conman shook his head and reached out to her once he was close enough, two fingers resting under her chin. He pushed her face up, forcing her to gaze at him.

She looked so… broken. Just like she had when he'd left. Ruffled hair, chestnut brown eyes surrounded by obscuring tears, biting her lip to hold back her sobs. He smiled just a little. It was so…

_Familiar._

"Andrea." The name rolled off his tongue as though he'd said it just yesterday. She flinched slightly against his touch. "What's wrong?" In that moment, Andrea stopped biting her lip. But she didn't frown. She didn't sob. She didn't scream or get angry. None of those. Through her swollen eyes and running tears, she smiled.

"Y-Your suit is gone."

He laughed at her sarcasm, moving closer and embracing her as she finally let out a few sobs. "Two years, Nick," she cried, "it's been two years since you left…"

"Two years…?" Nick sighed into her hair, left arm falling away from her to put a gentle hand on Ben's back.

"It felt like more."

A few minutes later they were joined by Ellis, the notorious Keith in tow. Rochelle followed with who looked like her sister. Then there was Coach, a howling football team surrounding him to the point of suffocation. And they talked, and they laughed, and they shared… as if none of that shit had happened. As if they'd always been like this. Always been family.

How long had it been since Nick had been saved? How long since he'd felt free? How long since he didn't know what feeling alone felt like?

It felt like an eternity.

_Well you know that you're well on your way  
At this point it's safe to say hey hey  
You're well on your way_

**A/N: **Guuuh. Honestly I don't really like how this turned out. I feel like I made Nick out of character. Sorry if it seems that way x-x

The reason I made 'Andrea' cry a lot is because one of Nick's lines when a Witch is nearby is "I think I hear my ex-wife...", implying, well, that she cries a lot. Haha.

Despite the oneshots being totally unrelated/in an alternate universe (Wait, did I mention that before? Er...), Andrea will be making an appearance in the next chapter. Blame the next song. If you listen to it, you'll understand. Hopefully. xD

Track #4: Ten Feet Tall


	4. Ten Feet Tall

**A/N: **WOW this update is late. Sorry about that. Kind of left it alone for a while because of a Block but that seems to be going away. Anyway, here you go. Hope you enjoy! If there are any typos please notify me, because I likely don't catch all of them when I proofread myself.

**Note: **This chapter takes place in the past about ten years. Yay young Nick.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Left 4 Dead. It belongs to Valve.

Track #4: Ten Feet Tall

Nick held back a wince as the burn of whiskey made its way down his throat, placing the shotglass back on the bar counter but not far enough to suggest that he wanted a refill. The night was still young. Well, young was an overstatement. Night hadn't really been born yet.

It was maybe six o'clock, at the latest. He wasn't usually in bars this early, but today was... special. 'Special' in the goddamn-I-hate-everything sense. You see, today was Nick's twenty-fifth birthday, and, figuring a quarter of a century was a pretty big milestone and he hadn't seen his parents in a while, he decided, for once, to give them a surprise visit—something he'd never done.

To no one's surprise, everything went downhill. Friendly conversation and catching up eventually turned into the subject of his career and his relationships, of which he had neither. And it all led back to those subtle comments about how they hadn't raised him right or that there was something wrong with him.

Hell, he tried. He really did. Got into college with decent marks. Had a relationship of eight months going at the time.

After a while, though, he got bored of it. He _hated _it. He realized it wasn't the life he wanted, so he broke up with his girlfriend—what was her name... Mary, maybe?—and dropped out of college, taking only the expensive car his rich grandparents had gotten him and some clothes, and going wherever the road took him.

He visited very rarely and only when they bugged him to the point that it was easier to go than to ignore them. But he always regretted it, because it _always _ended with him at some bar in that town on the cusp of urbanization, drinking whiskey and looking for a good anonymous lay to rid his mind of the day's events.

The bar was mostly empty—there were maybe seven or so others, alone or with a friend or a date—and Nick didn't expect much of anyone else to be there until around eight or nine, so he held back on the liquor, sitting on his stool, eyes wandering as he listened to whispered conversations and the muffled sounds of sports news coming from the tiny television to his left.

But to his astonishment, the door opened. He heard her before he could turn. The crying. And when he did, he had to supress a very interested eyebrow raise.

_The way she walks, it's like she's ten feet tall. She's got a sound, coming through the wall._

Despite the fact that she was a complete wreck with mascara running down her face and red puffy eyes, she had a confident look about her. There was this strange thing in her walk—it wasn't a bounce, because she definitely wasn't happy, and it wasn't a drag like she couldn't lift her heels. He couldn't put a finger on it. It was... different.

And, interestingly, she did her pretty little walk right up to the bar and sat in the stool next to him. But it wasn't not an invite.

_She's got a vibe, she'll kick it down the hall. She's got the whole damn thing, finger on the pulse._

There was an air to her, that very distinct 'back off' sort of air. He couldn't tell if she was depressed or pissed. He did a once over of her—from her red half-inch heels and faded flared jeans to her dark green blouse and messily cut strawberry blonde hair. It was sort of stunning. The girls he usually saw in bars were average and caked with makeup and had their cleavage falling out all over the place, but _her... _she had an unconventional beauty. The kind that made her pretty without her having to try.

_I've got a signal, you know I'm already there._

She ordered a drink, completely ignoring the blatant interest he was giving her with his eyes, and when the bartender came over with her scotch, Nick stopped him.

"Hey, put that on my tab."

The man nodded and returned to cleaning glasses and shining the counter. She glanced at Nick finally, and he could see the slight astonishment through her tears, as if he hadn't been there a moment ago even though she knew he was. He smirked and adjusted the front of his slightly bulky ten thousand dollar white suit—another gift from his grandparents, though he told everyone who asked that he won it in a bet.

The woman returned her gaze to the counter, attempting to sip her scotch between her hitching breaths. Something had obviously just happened, so he figured he'd stay away from the subject. No need to put salt in fresh wounds.

"Nick," he stated. She didn't look particularly intrigued, but she must have figured it was rude not to introduce herself after he bought her a drink, so she spoke.

"Andrea."

The conversation dropped after that, but he continued to look at her, with just the slightest bit of a smile, his eyes squinted. Andrea's crying eventually stopped. She took a few deep breaths and reached for a pack of tissues in her pocket, wiping the mascara off her face as best she could. It was only then that she realized he was still watching her. More annoyed than uncomfortable, she emptied her scotch, then spoke. "What?"

Her voice was demanding, which made his smile grow a little wider. She really was different. "Sorry, you just..." he rested his elbow on the counter and placed his chin in the palm of his hand, as if deep in thought. He squinted his eyes for greater effect. "You look a lot like my first wife..."

Andrea furrowed her brow at that. Obviously the statement was a shock, considering his young age, so her next question was inevitable, whether out of curiosity or disgust. "Really? First? How many times have you... been married...?"

He grinned.

_You know there ain't no one here baby, but yourself._

"Never said I was."

**A/N: **Thank you for reading. ConCrit is always appreciated c:

Track #5: Surface of the Sun


	5. Surface of the Sun

**A/N: **This one's a tad short. Sorry! Hope you enjoy anyway UuU

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Left 4 Dead. It belongs to Valve.

Track #5: Surface of the Sun

Shit. This hurt like hell. Shit shit _shit_.

The sun beat down on Nick's face, scorching his skin as he lay sprawled on the boiling pavement, scorching right through his suit and burning his skin. Clouds of steam seemed to rise up from the pool of blood around him. Or was that just his vision getting blurry? He wasn't sure. Was that someone screaming? He wasn't sure of that either.

_You may sit and cry on this lonely night  
Waiting around, playing with fire  
But it's alright  
The best part you ain't got to yet_

He'd wandered off on his own, weak and tired from a recent rampaging Tank, looking for a stray bottle of pills or pack of ammo. He hadn't even told his teammates; just branched off of the tail of their team. Just across the street, he told himself. He won't be more than a minute, he told himself. Nothing will happen, he told himself.

Fucking idiot.

The alarms had still been working in the corner store. The horde came on strong, biting, hissing, scratching, and just his luck, a Hunter got curious and joined them. Pounced him. Tore him to shreds. It was then that the others found him. A headshot from Ellis's sniper rifle had the Hunter falling off to the side, and the rest of the Infected running towards the source of the noise.

And here he was, sprawled out, getting a nice red tan to match that lovely shade pooling around his body.

_Curiosity got the best of me this time  
But it won't shake my destiny  
Completely got away from me  
I don't know my limit, or my strength you see_

"Nick. Nick!" At least, that's what he thought he heard. Rochelle? Yeah, Rochelle. There she was, on her knees beside him, hands hovering over his chest, at a loss for what to do. And she was crying. Hell, she was crying. He never thought he'd see the day.

"Hey, Ro. Nice day isn't it?" he said, but it came out like he was trying to speak through blood pooling in the back of his throat. Which he was. She cried harder.

There was a lot of things he wished he'd done, suddenly. He sort of wished he'd called his parents before this all started and told them they weren't fuck-ups, he was. Whether he believed that or not didn't matter. He wished he could visit his ex-wife one more time and give her a hug. He wished he could have survived this. Maybe if he had he'd quit the gambling life, move into a suburban house with a white picket fence, get a proper job—the works. Hell, maybe with Rochelle. He could see that.

_Sittin' in the sun with my head in the sand  
I don't give a damn about the words they're sayin'  
I'm just trying to learn how not to get burned  
But the surface of the sun is always ragin'_

Rochelle didn't try to patch him up. She already knew he wasn't going to make it. So she reached for his hand, squeezing it gently.

"You always had a heart of gold, you know?"

He smiled—grimaced—back at her, squeezing her hand, as much as he could. He couldn't have that picket fence anymore. Couldn't visit his ex. Couldn't call up his parents. So he had to settle with this. This was enough.

This was enough.

"Thanks, Ro."

_The surface of the sun is always ragin'  
It's always ragin'_

**A/N:** Thank you for reading!

Track #6: Reel to Reel


End file.
